I was working on this, but it has come to nothing.  Sorry.  I’ll try to get my shit together for Christmas.  Something spooky, misty.  Maybe. I PROMISE NOTHING..

The rain bounced violently against the window, perhaps anxious to be out fo the greyblack October sky.  Marchant stared out, his expression blank.

“Well?” he said, not turning round.

“Well,” said the little man at the desk, examining a small box. “It’s a lovely piece, in terms of craftsmanship. I couldn’t call it lovely in any other regard, though. The design is quite hideous.” He put the box down, distaste registering in the movement. The lacquered surfaces of the box gleamed in the firelight, cherrywood inlays dancing with flame.

“And the contents?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” shrugged the little man

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